


Need

by Andrea_Redbane



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Asexual Character, Nanaba - Freeform, Pansexual Character, asexual moblit, gender fluid? nana, genderless nanaba, moblit berner - Freeform, pansexual nana, pansexual nanaba, pansexual survey corps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 10:22:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4176258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andrea_Redbane/pseuds/Andrea_Redbane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the core of survival are three needs, food, sleep, and sex. The third Moblit has neglected forever it seems. Nanaba is a disciple of the third need.</p><p>"Just because I don't feel the attraction doesn't mean I don't want the action."<br/>-Moblit Berner, asexual reflection</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need

**Author's Note:**

> SO this is based off a RP I do with my partner Alix.  
> I will admit, I was kinda drunk when I wrote it but I'll post it raw and unedited because I think there's not enough Moblit love in the fandom or appreciation for asexuals.

A man gets bored sometimes.   
Repetition, repetition, repetition...   
Wake up, sigh, breathe in, breathe out, sit up, dress, wake Hanji and Erwin, wake new recruits, have Petra wake the rest, gather eggs, start fire, make breakfast, get water, eat breakfast, groom horse, check saddle, check gear, check Hanji, research, write, research, write, meditate, plan lunch, make lunch, eat lunch,  research, write, scold Hanji, sigh, remind Erwin to eat, research, write, research, write, list the names, sign the letters, count the dead, count the living, dinner, meetings, sigh, bathe, read, sleep, night terrors, sleep again, and repeat.  
For days, repeat.  
Weeks, perhaps months or almost a year... repeat.  
Occasional moments of want ignored, primal instinct repressed.  
Want gone to fester into need.  
He cannot sate it, one of the three primal appetites, needs... there was food, there was sleep, and the raw truth of sex.  
The attraction was never relevant or obvious. It was a craving for touch, comfort even. When the craving showed itself to him, he drank, if only to burn the feeling from his mind for a minute.   
It was never during the day that he drank. It was night, out  in the mess hall, or like this time, under the stars.  
"Can't sleep?" he soft voice schooled into genderless perfection is followed by a softer hand.  
"No," he sighs and feels a small chin rest on top of his head.  
"Nightmares?"  
"I can wish..." another shot to dull the frustration, to numb his aches.  
"Just restless?"  
"You could say that..." he looked up as rested their chin on his shoulder, "Did I wake you?" he asked softly, offering his bottle to the other.  
"No, I was restless myself, needed fresh air..." they took a sip, sat beside him. Unbound they were simple and small, relaxed in the binding darkness. There was silence, save the crickets and the occasional hum or snore, perhaps a muffled groan or moan from the bunkhouse or one of the offices once in a while.  
He doesn't quite remember what happened after that, but an image of Nanaba bare in the moonlight; silken skin, calloused hands, smooth lips, and a smile, is etched forever in his mind, later a sketchbook and some  large canvases he sells to fund the corps.  
Images, art, that is how he remembers things, people. His mind a sketchbook of his life.  
Nan's small hands down his chest, his trembling on their delicate waist. It feels holy, a temple he has been honored to see, to touch. Hands guide his up, and he blushes. The breasts don't fill his palms, but to touch Nan unbound is a privilege, sacred.  
Legs straddle his waist, hands push him down, meddle deviously where even his own are shameful to have meddled. Nan is thorough, smiling, gentle with him, though he could break them in two.  
They roll over, who initiates it is unclear in the fog of their breath in the subtle chill of the air, and Moblit finds another image etched into his mind, flushed cheeks and legs around his waist, head tilted back, vulnerable throat exposed, a trembling voice, "Ooh..."  
It is not his first time, but he's still unsure the steps to the sacred dance.  
A hand runs through his hair and the other is above their head, in the grass. One of his is intertwined with it while the other is on a small hip, accepting whispered guidance, "Oh, slowly... mmm.... just like that, you're good, it's okay."  
The assurances he can never be thankful enough for, nor can the gratitude ever be fully expressed, but they are felt, he's certain.   
It doesn't take long, he's embarrassed, but he uses what energy remaining in him to see Nan through to a returned favor. He can taste himself on the slick petals of the rose that he had once deflowered, and it unnerves him only a little. Small hands pull his hair, parted lips suck in the night air, and his thumb presses steadily. Their eyes meet for a moment, assuring again he is doing well, and then the rose blooms and he pulls away to lick his lips.  
He doesn't know how long they both laid there on their clothes in the tall grass, breathing hard and just being held, being close, remembering youth and how far they had come.  
"Thank you Nanaba," his whisper is soft against their temple.  
"You as well Momo," they smile back, look up at him. He hasn't heard the nickname in so long, since training, since their first time.  
It's maybe half an hour before both dress again, and head back inside. They're too tired to go up the stairs, so Moblit carries Nan to his room.  
It's Saturday, leisure day, so nobody questions why the two sleep til noon. Nor would they any other day, as there are three primal needs, sex, food, and sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I may write more to this based on my rp with my partner. The au we have and the madness we generate would surely amuse some of you guys.  
> Thank you for reading it all the way through!


End file.
